He didn’t wait for a reply, simply turned the knob and pushed into the room.

And there she was, sitting on the edge of the rumpled bed, Peanut curled up next to her, a loud purr rumbling from the big tomcat until he sounded like a furry, V-twin engine. Yes, there she was. The first woman to touch his heart. The only woman who’d ever broken it…

Her usually sleek, raven-black hair was a bird’s nest, the end of her perfect nose pink and shiny. And her eyes? Well, they were so puffy and red he was hard-pressed to make out the blue of her irises. And yet she was still, hands down, the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Shit.

“I want to be alone, B-Billy,” she hiccupped, wiping the backs of her hands over her wet cheeks.

“That’s not what you told Ace,” he reminded her as he edged closer and closer to the bed even as the urge to flee in the friggin’ opposite direction grew stronger and stronger. Now that he was here, doing it, he wasn’t sure he was ready. It suddenly felt as if he was poised to pull the pin on something, and the explosion was going to be far larger than he anticipated.

“That’s because Ace isn’t…” She shook her head helplessly, looking up at him when he came to stand beside her, her eyes begging him for mercy. No doubt she expected more disdain and vitriol from him. Why shouldn’t she? That’s all he’d given her for nearly a year…

Double shit.

Once again, that soft spot inside, the one he’d thought forever hardened, took one long look at her there, expression meek and pleading, and immediately turned to goo.

“Ace isn’t what?” he asked, shoving Peanut back into the middle of the mattress, receiving a loud, disgruntled mrrreow for his trouble. He ignored the cat’s furiously twitching tail and narrowed, yellow eyes as he gently lowered himself to the bed beside Eve.

“He’s not you,” she said, stiffening up like her whole body had been doused in Super Glue when he threw an arm around her shoulders, ignoring the little voice inside his head that yelled, Danger! Danger, Will Robinson! “Wh-what are you d-doing?”

“Comforting you,” he said, his breath sawing from his lungs at the feel of her in his arms again. So delicate and fragile. Like a very fine, very rare crystal vase that had to be protected at all costs.

“B-but why?” she stuttered. One big, sparkling tear leaked from the corner of her eye to trail down her perfect, pale cheek. He reached up to thumb it away, and her breath hitched in her throat.

So soft. That’s what he remembered about her. How soft her skin was. How good it smelled. Like handmade soap, designer lotion, and warm lace. He dragged in a deep breath. That lavish aroma would always make his dick hard enough to hammer nails.

Now being no exception…

He shifted, subtly adjusting himself into a more comfortable position. “Let’s just say I’m putting a little change in the karma bank,” he told her. “Besides, I think it’s time to let bygones be bygones.”

“Do you…” She licked her pale, peachy lips, and his eyes followed the dart of her pink tongue. The sexual beast inside him, the one he’d kept reined in around her since their reunion, began chomping at the bit. Damnit all to hell! She made him feel completely uncivilized, straight up animalistic, in fact. And the way he wanted her, hard, fast, and totally dirty was straight out of the jungle. Anytime he touched her, he was all about the me Tarzan, you Jane. And it was so very annoying that his libido had never gotten the note that she was persona non grata in the whole horizontal mambo department. “Do you mean that?” she finally managed.

Did he? If he was honest with himself, he wasn’t sure.

What he was sure of was that, despite everything, despite the fact that their convoluted history meant there was no chance of a future between them, he wanted to kiss her. To taste those full, perfectly formed lips, to breathe in that sweet, soft breath, to feel her warm, lithe form pressed against the length of him once again.

Smudging her cookies indeed…

God, he remembered how she’d been all those years ago. So young and fresh. So eager to learn the ways of his body. So delighted as he learned the ways of hers.

Oh, great. And now his dick wasn’t only hard enough to hammer nails, the damn thing was actually sucking all the blood away from his brain, causing him to, for a split second, consider doing something very, very stupid.

She must’ve sensed the change in him because a subtle trembling shook her shoulders. Her pupils dilated until they almost eclipsed the blue of her irises. And staring at her lovely face, he couldn’t read her expression. Which was odd. Because open book or wide-open book, remember?

So call it Fate or bad luck or simply bad timing, but, in that moment, he couldn’t tell if she was inviting him to lay her back on that bed or sizing him up for a coffin—payback for all the hell he’d put her through recently. And the not knowing meant he had to rely on instinct. So before he realized he even moved, he was palming the back of her neck and dragging her forward for a kiss, the little head in his pants instinctively taking over for the big head on his shoulders.

And the instant their lips touched? Well…let’s just say he knew it for the mistake it was.

Suddenly, his big head was back online and shouting at him to get the hell out! Because the feel of her, the taste of her, made him want to forget everything, forget that she was a cruel, untrustworthy woman. And he absolutely could not forget that. If he did, there’d be nothing stopping him from throwing caution to the wind and giving her another chance, from allowing her the opportunity to crush him again.

Which could not, would not happen. He’d barely survived the heartbreak the first time. He wouldn’t survive it a second…

But he couldn’t make himself release her either. In fact, against all reason and good judgment, he did just the opposite. He slid his free hand down her arm, stopping to intertwine their fingers. Then he snaked their joined hands behind her back and pressed her forward until she was forced to scoot closer to him. She was trembling in his arms just as she had at eighteen, trembling with desire mixed with nerves. And just as he’d done all those years ago, he gentled his assault, kissing his way across her brow and then her closed lids, letting her lush lashes tickle his lips, sipping at the salty wetness that still clung there. Sliding his nose down the side of hers until their foreheads touched, he was surprised when she released his hand, grabbed his face, and angled his head, slamming her mouth over the top of his only to proceed to try to catalog his teeth with her tongue.

Sonofa—

And just like that, all his gentleness vanished. Okay, and Ace was right. He not only wanted to smudge her cookies, he wanted to flick her bean and eat her cake, too. But first he wanted to kiss her. Kiss her like he hadn’t kissed a woman since her, with everything he had, with his whole body, with his whole…heart.

He slipped his hand under her blouse, and the warm skin of her back was soft yet firm, covering supple feminine muscles. Eve might look fragile, but she did not feel it. What she did feel like was his. She’d always felt like his and—

Shit on a stick!

How had everything gotten out of hand so quickly?

Once again, his body acted before his brain. With absolutely no finesse, he jumped from the bed like the thing had turned into a gaping mouth threatening to swallow him whole. The sudden move nearly had Eve face-planting into the colorful rug, and he steadied her by placing a hand on her shoulder.

“I, uh—” He stopped short, trying and failing to catch his breath. She was looking up at him with big, wary eyes, two graceful fingers touching her kiss-wet lips, her other hand wrapped around the pearl pendant at her throat. Holy hell, you’ve got to get out of here, boy-o.

“I didn’t mean for that to—” He stopped again, shaking his head. “Goodnight, Eve.”

He turned on his heel, gritting his teeth against the pain caused by the humungous bite his ulcer took out of his stomach when her softly whispered “G-goodnight, Billy” followed him out the door.

Chapter Nine

Black Knight Inc.’s Onsite Gym

Sunday, 6:36 a.m.

What did it mean? What did it mean? What did it mean?

The phrase circling around in Eve’s head kept time with the pounding of her sneakers on the treadmill’s conveyer belt.

He’d said he wanted to let bygones be bygones, and then he’d kissed her…

Holy moly, did he ever! Her lips were still tender, the skin on her chin still slightly pink from the rasp of his ever-present beard stubble. And, oh, she’d forgotten what it felt like to be good and truly kissed. To be swept away by the sensation of lips and teeth and tongues and sweet-tasting breath.

Nobody, and she meant nobody, kissed like William Wesley Reichert. The man was a veritable prodigy, especially when he did that thing where he put both palms on either side of her face and gently sucked her tongue into his mouth…or when he caught her lower lip between both of his and softly stroked the sensitive pad with his tongue…or when he was in the conquering mood and plunged inside her mouth like Genghis Khan, just flippin’ ravaging her—which was what he’d done toward the end last night.

And, yes, she totally blamed him—and her early immersion in the wonder that was him—for the fact that the guys she’d dated and kissed since him hadn’t measured up to her expectations. I mean, once a girl got a taste of triple-chocolate truffles, plain ol’ graham crackers simply lost their appeal.